Win or Lose
by Mort de L'oignon
Summary: Parties can be for socializing. Or they can be for seducing your sister from across the room in the middle of public. Same, same. But different. Elsanna.


At 1:30 in the morning I should be working on that essay due tmrw at 9 that I have yet to finish but instead I'm here uploading previously written works from Tumblr onto in an attempt to organize the pathetic tangle of thread that is my life. Enjoy I guess.

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At this point, Anna honestly couldn't even remember why they were having the celebration to begin with; but any excuse to dress up and stuff her face was an excellent one.

Unfortunately, what had started out as fun and excitement had quickly devolved into a careful dance of wills and oh, how she was losing…

Her sister, sitting just across the table, was running her tongue over a spoon with the delicate determination of someone trying to convey a very specific idea. Caressing, dipping, sucking….

The red head bit at her bottom lip, trying desperately to think of other things, but there was an ache starting that positively dripped with the beginnings of her defeat.

She shifts oh-so-slightly in her chairs, crossing one leg delicately across the other, smirking as Elsa's eyes took on a distinctly predatory cast. Loss is imminent, but she isn't going down without a fight. And what a glorious fight it will be.

Tearing her gaze away from Elsa's display, Anna twirls her braid momentarily. As her hand draws away, she trails a deliciously hot line from her jaw to her breasts imagining all the while that it's her sister's hand. The heat at her core burns all the hotter as she squeezes her legs together and licks her lips before biting it gently, imagining the hand moving even lower. To do so in public would have crossed the line but in her mind… No one need know.

Chancing a glance at Elsa, Anna has to bite back a whimper. Her sister's eyes were dark with desire. Never breaking eye contact with Anna, the queen selects a berry, sliding the fruit past her lips. The juice stains her fingers, Darting her tongue out, she laps delicately at her hand before parting her lips ever so slightly to suck upon the tip.

The chatter in the background is muted. They only have eyes for each other, a silent game of sexual wills being played in the crowded ballroom. The danger of discovery only raises the stakes and the heat.

Anna has lost and she knows it. She hasn't the patience or the control for such mind games. Perhaps she would one day. As for now, she's damp and tortured, watching as Elsa breaks off the contact to greet some foreign royalty. Choosing to remain upon her seat for fear her legs would give way if she tried to stand, Anna does her best not to appear too flushed.

The evening drags on as more royalty arrived. Elsa waltzes about, greeting each one. Out of courtesy, Anna is forced to extend the same greeting. No one notices her light tremor, the halting tone of her voice that is several pitches too high, the way her breath comes in broken gasps. No one notices the way her throat works to conceal whimpers and sighing moans as the queen's hand casually brushes her chest by accident, the catch in her breathing when cold hands brushes strands of hair from freckled skin, or lingers seconds too long against bare shoulders.

Elsa takes her time, delighting in the pleading desire shining from Anna's eyes. She dances with every available person in the room, always in her sister's line of sight. She dips the ladies, her arms holding securely about their waist, slim fingers tracing their waist as she holds them appropriately close. Anna burns as she whispers into their ears, burns even hotter at the sight of the men's hands touching her sister. She's not sure what fuels her jealousy more. Elsa loves it.

When a familiar hand is extended in front of her, Anna almost refuses. But she's drawn in, the faint smirk promising release, the desire in those blue orbs staring down at her mirroring her own. It's a dance to remember, everyone else in the room fading away.

The princess is lead across the dance floor, a chill crawling lazily over her body, starting at her waist. She shivers as Elsa spins her, pressed flush against her back in a proper waltzing position, lips brushing her ear as she whispers insinuations into Anna's ear. The words are poisoned, honeyed desire flooding into her at the act. The suggestions range, and the possibility and image of Elsa taking her, right here, in front of the whole room is terrifying even as her knees grow weak and she almost collapses into a puddle on the polished floor. An arm wraps about her waist. Elsa's archery lessons have paid off, thinks Anna dizzily, noting the strength and muscles in the slim arm supporting her weight.

As though from a great distance, she hears Elsa's polite laughter, followed by rueful apologies. Her mind is too muddled to make out what the words are and seconds later she finds herself being swept up in strong arms and out the door.

The moment they are hidden from prying eyes in a shadowed corner, Elsa allows Anna to stand on her own. She murmurs apologies, as though to leave and Anna instantly loops her arms around Elsa's neck, pulling her down into a kiss. The queen growls in satisfaction, quickly asserting dominance. Anna cries out into the kiss, her gown pushed up about her waist as chilled fingers brush delicately at her wetness. They tease, lingering at the entrance, never moving fast enough, deep enough for Anna's liking. She tries to keep her voice down when she hears the sound of voices boom into the quiet hallway, muffling her pleasure with her hand, back arched, legs quivering. Elsa seems to take this as a challenge and teeth are suddenly marking her bare skin, a nip here, a scrape there, worshiping the freckled surface of her neck and shoulders. Anna digs her nails into Elsa's shoulders, whimpers escaping from her lips, a cry breaking out from her wavering control when the fingers between her legs begin to move in earnest, sliding in and out, hitting just the right spot with each torturous stroke. Wrapping one leg about Elsa's waist, she eggs her sister on, bucking frantically, seeking more friction as she teetered on the edge of utopia. She's so incredibly close. Then Elsa stops and Anna stumbles. She shudders, reaching her high yet not quite. The heat is still there, a nagging, gnawing need that wanders about, a beast that has eaten all there is to eat yet still is not satiated. Elsa releases her hold, licking her fingers clean, the desire still smoldering in her eyes as she smiles.

"I win," she states simply before leaving, her heels clicking as she returns to the party.

Anna slides down the wall, her legs no longer strong enough to support her weight. The party will continue till morn and no doubt her presence will be required once again. The game would continue, for as long as there were two powers, there had to be a victor and Anna couldn't find it in herself to complain against her loss.

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Thank you for reading. That is very kind of you.


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